Mistaken Identities
by Ailinn
Summary: Set in a war torn future, with an evil Draco and emotionless Harry, and thier children who are trying desperatly to find themselves outside the shadows and expectations of their parents.
1. Chapter 1

Mistaken Identities One

Dumbledore's office had barely changed since the last time the silver haired wizard had been there. But it felt different, it was darker somehow, the air was charged and heavy. The shadows loomed menacingly from the indistinguishable corners, like faceless beasts of the night, slowly stalking the room. The thin rays of light fell in sharp stripes to the floor, they were violently white against the grey stone floor.

"Harry?"

Hermione's fingers grazed the grey wall as she hesitated in the doorway, chills were coursing down her spine in unpredictable waves.

"Harry" she repeated stumbling over his name as she looked into the foreboding room. "Why don't you…join us for dinner?"

She twisted her hands together at the silence engulfed her, "It, it would do the kids some good if they could see you." Hermione paused for a heart beat before continuing "and it would do you some good to get out of this room."

Harry stood up silently, rising into view out the shadows as if he was emerging from a pool of tar, his blank face watching her emotionlessly. "I'm working, Hermione"

She coiled away from him unconsciously, her hands coming to rest protectively on the slight swell of her stomach. "I know," she raised her chin up as Harry advanced on her, forcing herself to stare straight at her best friend. She wasn't a coward. "It isn't healthy, Harry. You lock yourself up in this tower for days on end, you don't eat, you don't sleep. You're obsessed with you-know-who…"

"Say his name" Harry cut into her rant suddenly.

Hermione flushed in confusion, "What?" she said dumbly, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.

Harry was leaning right over her, his face only inches away from her own, his eyes were cold and brilliantly green in the dim room. They burnt into hers with a fire she hadn't seen for years.

"Say. His. Name"

Hermione bowed her head, flinching away from his stiff demur, "Voldermort." she whispered hoarsely.

"Fear of name only increases fear of self."

Hermione felt as if she'd been hit as he recited her own words back to her, she looked angrily at Harry, not words coming to her. Finally she turned away from the ghost of her best friend, unable to bear to look at him. This wasn't Harry, this was someone else.

"Jamie's asking for you" she murmured.

He didn't look up, until the door softly clicked shut behind her.

* * *

Of all places he had stayed in over the last year, this had to be one of the worse. The single light bulb swung erratically, spraying its weak, yellow glow randomly into rotting corners of the room. It was enough to make you wish it was completely dark.

The windows were all barred tiny sheets of glass, thin and slowly freezing in the cold winter night, he had been fascinated as a child by the formation of the icy patterns that slowly crept like insects along the edges of the windows. Now it was just another problem.

There was a single bed, with stained sheets, they looked like someone had bleached them, unsuccessfully. He didn't want to think about who or what had made those stains.

He didn't mind, much, it was bad, but at least he was alone.

Narcisse straightened suddenly, his wet hair slapping his back. A long mane of dyed black waves plastered itself to his bare skin unpleasantly.

Water dripped onto the floor, sounding like thunder in the grime bathroom.

"Hello?" he called, his hand groping blindly for his wand, the wood was cold against his sweaty palm.

Something moved, flickering and slithering like a snake in the far left of his vision.

The youth stared uneasily at now motionless spot, his throat dry as he snapped "I know you're there." Silently he put a shield around himself, a simple spell that even the dumbest child knew, but it was the only one he could think of.

The only problem with the glass bubble of protection that he had created for himself was that it left him deaf and near sightless, he struggled to see through the misty coils and tendrils that swirled like grey ribbons in front of him face.

Suddenly it disappeared, leaving him stuck in a moment of sickly fear, but someone spoke.

"Really, I thought at your age, you could have used a more advanced spell than that."

Narcisse relaxed slightly, but at the same time he felt familiar hate rising inside him. He knew that voice, the velvet smoothness of it was forever seared into his memories. A voice that changed lies into poetry and truth into insults until you were running in circles and dribbling insanely from the mouth.

He was also very familiar with the person that produced it.

"What? Aren't you glad to see me, son."

Narcisse schooled his face to passive, feeling the silver eyes on him.

"Last time I saw you, you were running as fast as you could in the opposite direction"

"What can I say" the man gave a lazy shrug, "you always did talk too much."

Without thinking Narcisse pointed his wand at the pale faced man who was sneering at him contemptuously.

"You wouldn't dare. You're too weak to kill me" he taunted Narcisse, his hands rising in mocking surrender.

The tip of his wand pressed sharply into the hollow of his father's throat.

"Try me" he breathed darkly, his face ugly with loathing and bloody fantasies.

The older man lifted a hand up to his chin, mimicking deep thought, "well you are my son, I suppose…"

"I'm nothing like you!" snarled Narcisse pulling away in disgust.

Draco Malfoy stepped into view without a sound, casually looking at his finger nails.

"I don't know about that" he trailed off, as if uninterested, the slump of his thin shoulders emitting boredom.

Narcisse closed his eyes, silently struggling with his inner demons, most of who were commanding him to commit bloody murder. He let his eyes flutter open, it was a game. Everything was a game to Draco. He knew that his father was going to taunt and humiliate him if he played along. He should just press his wand a little further, maybe it would draw blood, his skin looked paper thin.

Despite his dark fantasies he found his lips shaping the words uncommented, such was the obedience that had been drilled into him a child that it still existed even now.

"Why, father?"

Draco spun around sharply, like a child he beamed wickedly innocent, his lips curling up, thinning into sharp lines. "Where is my daughter, Narcisse? I left her in your care" his voice slowed patronizingly "You're her big brother, remember?"

"That's not fair!"

He was 12 years old again, shaking in fear as he was towered over by Draco's lean figure, silent tears pouring down his face, leaving his skin flushed with anger and unspoken injustice.

Silver eyes flashed like liquid mercury, "In case you have failed to notice, in this world not much is!"

"I was just a child" the youth argued, unable to voice the emotion tearing him up inside, he hated, he loathed, he utterly abhorred this man in front of him. He wanted nothing more that to rip his insides out and wear them as a hat, and yet he was barely able to mumble to him without crying.

Draco shrugged, his face dark with half forgotten memories, "It will be ok," he said, then sneering turned upon his son, "after all she can only hate you as much as you hate me, right?"

* * *

There we go, Ok backstory.

I was reading Harry Potter fics as you do and the only future children thing that I could find were either sickly sweet or really really annoying- (you know the ones where the girl (always a girl) is very beautifuland everyone loves her and she has some sort of really good power- usually more that one just to be on the safe side- and ...arrh). moving on...

So desolate at the lack of good writing, original characters and words with more than than three syllables on this idea, I decided to go and do it myself.

So there you go, I don't do it for the reviews, I'm not like that, not bitter at all...

Curse You All to Hell If You Don't Review Me!

yep, not bitter at all...


	2. 2 Then and Now

Then and Now

"I hate school."

Lilith sank lazily next to Jamie, her legs coming intrusively to fall across his lap, she groaned dramatically massaging her temples.

"hmmm"

"Can't you be a bit more responsive, or are you preoccupied with the brooding hero thing, because if that's the case I'll make my self scarce "

The youth turned stunning green eyes on her slowly, they weren't just green, they were bright emerald. She had only ever seen one person who had eyes like that, and his seemed cold. Frozen.

"Sorry, just thinking about my dad" he choked slightly unable to say the last word easily, naturally, pain flashed across his face quickly becoming undistinguishable in the open emotions that raced across his features, "he won't see me"

Lilith shrugged, "You don't need him." she told him, almost ordering him.

He smiled, it was as close to comforting as she was going to get. He turned away from her again through, wishing she would leave him alone suddenly.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" she snapped, punching his arm viciously to get his attention.

"Hey!" Jamie looked disgruntled at her, rubbing his now tender arm "Stop bulling me"

"I don't have a father." Her voice became impressively snobby, through years of practise, no doubt. "and look at me"

Jamie glanced sideways at her, "Yeah…that's what I'm worried about"

The petit girl raised a single fair eyebrow indignantly, "Why are we friends again?"

Jamie grinned pleasantly "We're not. I just felt sorry for you, you do look really rather pathetic "

The pale eyes narrowed with cold anger, "In that case, I withdraw my wondrous companionship and leave you in self-pity and excessive boredom." Lilith turned away from, him. Or as far as she could, since she was still sprawled over him.

"I love you too"

"Curl up in a corner somewhere and die, Jamie" she snarled venomously.

Jamie smiled as they settled into a comfortable silence, "Come on, princess" he rose to his feet, sending the thin girl tumbling gracelessly to the floor. "We're going to play

Quidditch."

"You sadistic bastard. Quidditch bruises me, I have delicate skin." growled the girl, flopping to the floor limply.

She was spread gracefully against the crimson carpet, silver hair like a broken halo around her thin face. Her voice didn't stick to the angelic image through, it came arrogantly forth, conceited and condescending. "Now, you will pick me up and put me back on that couch, right now!"

Jamie nudged her with the toe of his shoe, "Pleeasse…" he whined.

"That will not work on me, devil spawn!" she shouted, shielding her eyes with a flourish "I have a will of steel!"

Jamie shrugged and easily picked her up, throwing her casually over his shoulder.

"I told you, you need to eat more"

"What, so I can be bruised and over weight?" howled Lilith as he carted her away. " I am going to bring dire Malfoy vengeance on you, just you wait…. I know where you sleep James Potter"

* * *

Harry awoke with a start, his mouth open silently screaming to the horrors of his dreams. He gripped the corner of his desk as he stood, trying to expel the remains of sleep that haunted him in the shape of demons laughing in the corners of the room. Red eyes and snake like bodies, curling in the darkness…

He ran a agitated hand through his hair, his fingers coiling into the knots of his unkempt black curls, when was the last time he had brushed it?

It didn't matter anymore.

He eyes glanced at the grey walls, covering the stone was pictures and stories, thousand of newspaper clipping and long never ending lists of names, plans of buildings and photographs; that had people staring through haunted eyes at him. Condemning him, like always.

He found the one he sought easily, it was one of the oldest and worst kept, the edges of the parchment curling over and discolouring in age. Edged onto the yellow paper was properly the most detailed plan of Hogwarts ever made.

The Marauders map, his thin fingers traced the rooms mentally ticking off all the people's names he saw them drift across the parchment. There were so few names drifting around the map now.

When war had begun, Wizarding families had gone into hiding, trying to keep themselves from Voldermort, to send there children to Hogwarts was an open proclamation that they were against the dark lord. To do so was to risk death, Voldermort ignored those who he deemed below him, who kept out of the war, only those who were threats were killed. Maybe it would have been better if it had stayed that way. A lot less people's blood would be on Harry's conscious now.

They had spoken to each other once since the beginning of the war. Only once had they actually laid eyes on each other, the two icons for the dark and light side. It seemed so wrong when he thought about, all these people battling on both sides, so many casualties for there leaders. Yet both him and Voldermort were quite safely locked away, untouched, while so many died.

"Tell me, Harry, how many do you think will die for you? How many people's blood will you wear before you can't take anymore? You're no child now, you now exactly what will happen! So what does that make you? Knowing that you are sending people to there death?"

Voldermort's words were burned into his mind, he had been leaning against the burning remains of his house, arms folded casually at ease. Fingers drumming impatiently against his emerald clad arm. His body was too tall and thin to be natural, his bones looked as if they would pierce his sickly coloured skin at any moment, he had been dressed in false riches, ruby rings and velvet robes. It had been a sickening sight.

He hadn't been bothered by any of that through, his eyes had been fixated on the slender shadowy figure that hovered near Voldermort.

Malfoy.

He hadn't said anything, he had barely glanced at Harry his face showed none of the passionate loathing that had always been present in the boy at Hogwarts, instead, as he stood silently beside Harry's greatest enemy, he just seemed …resigned.

In the eternal darkness of Dumbledore's office Harry wondered what Malfoy was doing now. Lilith had told him that Draco was on the run from Voldermort, had been for over 14 years. But she could be lying, after all she was a Malfoy.

After the burning of Voldermort's home, he had all but disappeared. Rumours filtered to Harry of a city, a dark city, that was hidden from any locating spell or charm. It was the reason that no death eater had ever been caught since that day, because there was no where to capture them. Voldermort's new base could only be found if you knew where to find it. He had thought of sending a double agent in, but after the betrayal of Snape, Harry just couldn't bring himself to do it. He had his hands busy anyway, Voldermort was running circles around him. Every day a new crisis arose: Mungo's had been destroyed, the ministry had been bombed, Death eaters had been seen in killing in Scotland.

Harry sighed, when he had been younger, he had thought that good would somehow win and it would be over before anyone got hurt.

But the war had gone on for so long, children had been born and lived with nothing but his endless battle. Innocent people were dead and still the Dark Lord lived. It seemed hopeless.

His finger stopped.

James Potter

His son, out on the Quidditch pitch. Somehow it made his heart swell, almost painfully to see his son's name outside, playing Quidditch. But something caught his attention, making him grit his teeth angrily as he stared at the map, another name.

Lilith Malfoy

Her name was written in a flourish, extravagant and fake as she was. It wasn't that he disliked the girl, he'd only ever spoken to her twice, and she'd seemed polite enough.

But he'd seen what Lucius Malfoy had done, and Draco's name had been plastered over the headlines for years, ever since that incident with the Patil family, he had apparently overcome his fear of killing. After all that, he just could never trust anyone with the name Malfoy, all of them were inclined to evil, they all grew up with it, it was something that they were expected to be, and after a while they seemed to stop fighting it.

He hated the thought of his son being near her. He had told James as much over a year ago. So what had his rebellious son done? The next day the boy had stuck to the girl like glue, after a while it seemed their friendship had become genuine, not just to annoy Harry.

But Lilith knew who James was, she could just be using him, and the though scared him to no ends. It was possible one of the only things that did anymore.

* * *

_This is disgustingly short. I should be kicked... _

_Plz review I want to know what you think of Lilith... she strangely reminds me of myself(? its a mystery?)... and I know people are reading, we have that new how many hits you get now... how cool is that? _


	3. 3 Untouchable

Chapter Three

It was like poetry, the way he flew. Something beautiful and pure. Something untouchable. At least for Lilith anyway. It felt sacrilegious to be here, to watch his face glowing as he dived and spun around in a breath taking, suicidal display.

"Did you drag me out here in the freezing cold, just so you could show off!" she asked incredulously.

Jamie glided slowly to stop beside her. He grinned at her, beaming innocently, his face flushed in exertion and hair wind swept back into black waves that curled in small blue tinted coils plastered over his face. He looked ridiculously cute.

It was a positively sickening sight.

The sharp featured girl crossed her arms in lazy irritation somehow managing to balance on the broom, her face a screwed mask of disgust. "Don't you possess a comb?"

Jamie just rolled his eyes. After over a year of constant insults, incessant whining and absolute contempt for just about everyone, he had finally come the conclusion that

A) you either simmer slowly into obsessive hate towards her.

or B) you ignore her and accept that she was a sarcastic little brat, that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

"You're just jealous" he told her pleasantly, running a rough hand through his hair. They hovered near each other, smiling tentatively in uncertain friendship, Jamie's smile was bright and painfully open, while her own was a small little smirk, that boarded on the realms of a sneer.

"I'm not jealous of you" added Lilith suddenly, flying slowly away from him, because the moment was too heavy. "You have awful hair, your skin is pasty and you're skinny and weedy"

"Stop insulting me, and play Quidditch"

Lilith pouted, "But I'm tired" she whined, her eyes dark.

The dark haired youth just grinned wickedly at her, "First one to get the snitch."

"I hate you" Lilith told him flatly, reaching up to coil her silk fine hair out of her face.

Jamie didn't hear as she passionately cursed him, as he was already half way across the pitch, a little blur of black and gold.

"So what did he say to you?"

Jamie streaked past her, his face creasing in lines, angrily. "he didn't. Hermione just told me he was working"

"Why don't you go and see him anyway?" Lilith shrugged passively.

He froze, his face dark with concentration, he often thought of disobeying Harry and more often than not acted upon it. His father was a powerful figure and he got a thrill every time rebelled against him, but this rule was not one that he could easily defy.

"Always follow the rules. How very boy scout." Mocked Lilith sharply.

" I can't" Snapped Jamie.

"And why not?" she asked softly, slyly.

"Because!" he told her.

"Your range of vocabulary amazes me yet again" she added, as he violently through the tiny gold ball across the pitch, watching in grim satisfaction as it sailed easily through one of the tall hoops at the other end of the field.

"I'm cold, tired and hungry" complained Lilith sulkily, as she lowered herself to the ground, "I'm going to drag my bruised and battered body inside, all because of you of course, abusive friendship this is…." she got to the ground still in the middle of her rant, before adding as an after thought "oh, you coming?"

Jamie shook his head, "I'm gonna stay outside for a bit"

She shrugged indifferently, swinging the broom over her shoulders, "Suite yourself, Superman"

Jamie smiled at the old Marvel hero reference, she had watched the program once and had promptly transfigured all his clothes into Superman's rather bright wardrobe. Wicked those Malfoys.

There were still photographs circling around the staff room because of her, he was pretty sure he'd seen Flinch harbouring them on the inside of his duffle coat.

Jamie pushed back his hair, before diving for the golden gleam that was hovering near the ground. He wanted to see Harry, he wanted to see his father. The force of his thoughts surprised him. The more his father pushed him away, the more he longed for Harry's approval. It was ridiculous because he had spent most of his life since turning 13 trying to rebel against him.

But this time it was different.

Lately the famous Harry Potter had locked himself away from everyone, he had forgotten his duties to the school, owls pilled letters at his empty place in the Great Hall, none ever got through to him.

Despite his friends and professors attempts to shield him from it, he knew what people were saying. They were asking if Harry Potter had finally lost it.

It seemed only a matter of time in some people's eyes. Harry had been obsessed with Voldermort since he was eleven, he had shouldered the burden of Hogwarts before he graduated. Everyone expected him to be the hero, the chosen one, the one who could finally defeated the Dark Lord, and even with all the fighting, he hadn't done it, not yet, it had been years, decades and he still fought, had to fight.

Was that too much, even for Harry Potter?

The reason he like Lilith was simple, she hated his father, god only knew why. But she utterly and completely despised him. Jamie had never met another person who openly displayed there hostility for his father. Somehow he needed that, he needed to know that his father wasn't the perfect person others told him he was. He liked the fact that Lilith had no trouble listing the headmaster's flaws, he only knew one other person who did that. Himself.

He didn't hate his father, just the thing that his father represented, everyone expected him to be just like Harry Potter. Heroic and brave and ready to lead everyone into battle.

Well he wouldn't, he couldn't.

He tilted his broom to the left, letting it balance on the edge of the wind. He looked for a glimmer of gold lazily, the silver beacon of Lilith's hair annoyingly easier to spot. Her hair shone like white fire in the velvet darkness of sky, harsh against the smoothness of the night. At first he had thought she was just an arrogant, insulting, vain, sarcastic, pointy-faced girl.

Now he knew she was exactly that. Strangely enough he liked her for it.

He knew Tristan dislike her, but he would never get them to like each other. Tristan was a Weasley and Lilith was a Malfoy. They had been brought up to hate each other and nothing was going to change the years of resentment that they had grew up in.

Jamie rolled his shoulder thoughtfully, before diving suicidally to the ground, hand reaching for the snitch.

* * *

The buildings loomed over him, tainted red by the crimson mist that was rolling in waves in his vision.

The youth stumbled, biting his tongue sharply. Pain blossomed in his mouth, accompanied by the metallic taste of blood. Dimly he wondered where he was. But he wasn't stupid enough to ask, and his tongue was throbbing like hell.

"Move"

A hand sent him flying ahead, in the shadows of the city he was walking in. Narcisse cursed silently as he stumbled again, spitting bitterly as he felt the harsh feel of the man's hand against his skin once more.

He shifted, trying to find more comfort in the tied position he was in. His wrists were pinned in front of him, bound by lengths of heavy, discoloured rope. He winced as glass cut his feet. He had been dragged away still only clad in some jeans, his feet were already stained red and his pale skin was streaked with rain.

The hand moved him again, he carried on silently, he couldn't get angry. He had to think.

Where was he?

Nothing, all he could see was endless roads, either side filled with tall and black stoned buildings. There was no windows anywhere, instead on every wall were lights, dim and wavering. Weak magic, more likely used to create pitch black shadows that light.

The darkness was too intense and heavy for him to be able to see the sky. No sighs, everything was the same, there was nothing here. No noise. No light. No people.

The hand slapped his back once more. Sending his skin into stinging pain.

Ok, what had happened?

Draco.

His father was vivid in his memory.

Then he had left, laughing. Narcisse shook his head angrily. He couldn't remember anything after that. Something inside him told him that it was all his Draco's fault, he had had him kidnapped. But his brain told him it wasn't. Draco was hiding, he couldn't pull this off. Both sides on the war were looking for him, he couldn't do anything, he was powerless.

Unless…

"This way" grunted the monster of a man behind him. He pointed to the building in front of them. What a surprise, it was the tallest, darkest and largest building in this place Sighing Narcisse walked into the building, he was so tired suddenly.

"you're late"

The hand gave him a final shove, sending him to his knees at least two feet away, right into the middle of the room. The floor was marble, who had marble floors?

Narcisse rose to his feet, trying to regain what ever was left of his dignity.

"I liked you better on your knees"

He didn't respond, searching in vain for the owner of the voice.

"Over here"

He turned to direction of the taunting voice. Sitting in the shadows, one leg lazily slung over the arm of what could only be described as a throne, was Voldermort.

Narcisse knew him immediately.

The Dark Lord clapped his hands together almost happily. "You look just like your father."

Narcisse tried to keep his face passive, but manic laugh told him he'd failed. The horrible sound echoing painfully around the marble throne room, ringing dimly in his ears.

Stretching like a contented cat, Voldermort peered at the youth.

Narcisse resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself suddenly. He let his fists unclench, staring coldly at thing. Voldermort's eyes were massive round things, bleached of any trace of colour, they seemed completely white. His long thin body was more of a corpse skin so pale it was tainted blue from the vivid spider web of veins that looked like rope beneath his flesh. His bones looked like blades, check bones that could cut glass loomed out of his thin face.

He was a horrendous sight, yet wonderfully and uniquely beautiful. His head was haloed by a untameable mass of tar black hair, his mad eyes were framed with dusty black lashes, he had a wild grace and elegance that showed even as he settled down lazily into the massive throne. If there was ever such things as fallen angels, they would like the body that Voldermort inhabited. The Dark Lord leaned forth, smiling.

"You and I have a lot to talk about"

* * *

_Sorry it took me so long to get up. wow 6 reviews, I'm delighted._

_plz review_


	4. 4 Memories of you

_I'm falling into memories of you,and things we used to do  
Follow me there  
A beautiful somewhere  
A place that I can share with you _

So many nights, legs tangled tight  
Wrap me up in a dream with you  
Close up these eyes, try not to cry  
All that I've got to pull me through is memories of you

_(one year, six months-yellowcard)  
_

Memories of you

"Run!"

"I'm not leaving you"

"For Merlin's sake Hermione, for once please do as I ask"

"Don't leave me" she sobbed angrily, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need you, I can't… I can't go on.." she hiccupped, her words drowning in the noise around them.

His weak smile unwillingly turned into a grimace, "I'll ok, just go, I'll be…right after you,"

---

Hermione shot up breathlessly, her chest heaving as she tried to gulp air into her protesting lungs. Her small frame was shaking violently in dry sobs, for a second; silence was heavy on the witch, but then she started to cry. Tears poured down her pale face gracelessly, making ugly red tracks of dampness. Her hair was plastered to her neck and face in dark damp curls and sweat was running hotly down her back.

Moaning she let her face fall heavily into her palms.

"How could you" she whispered flatly "How could you leave me, Ron"

That night was still so painfully vivid in her mind, every detail emblazed in blood and pain in her dreams, nightmares as she was forced to relive it again and again. Would there ever be peace from the demons?

It felt wrong.

Wrong that she longed to let go of the past, to move on. She wanted to finish it, finish the war, stop those meaningless deaths. She wanted to help. Not grieve.

Ever since she could remember, she had occupied herself by helping people, when the war first started she had stretched herself so thin she barely felt the grieve of the death of loved ones.

Then she'd become a teacher, while Ron had gone fighting with Harry.

Then….

Hermione shuddered unexpectedly. She crawled her way out the suddenly horribly large empty bed. Brushing the tears off her face she let herself into the common room.

With so little students coming to Hogwarts, Harry had decided to put them all in one house. Even then they barely filled the old Gryffindor dormitories. After that _massacre _nearly a year ago, there were so many empty beds. Somehow the death eaters had found a way into Hogwarts, they had chosen there victims carefully, muggle born and half wizarding children. Jamie hadn't been touched, it was a horrible but intelligent move on Voldermort's part- people demanded in there grief to know why Harry's son had been so easily protected but there own were now dead.

Shaking herself out the past, Hermione closed the door to her room, resting her forehead against the cool frame wearily.

"Professor?"

Hermione frowned as she turned, what was someone doing up at this hour?

"Who…oh"

Lilith Malfoy stared at her from her position near the fire, her wide eyed surprise easily disappeared beneath a mask of indifference that she had perfected long before she ever came to Hogwarts. She was folded up in a red backed chair staring silently at Hermione as the older witch examined her. The girl didn't curl as such, she noted, she was too bony for that, but jack-knifed herself closer together, she seemed fragile and small in the soft light of night.

"Have you been crying?"

From anyone else it would have sounded concerned, but somehow the child managed to twist it in a question full of irritation and scorn.

"No" Hermione answered smartly, her arms coming to wrap around herself, as she hid her face slightly.

The silver blonde shrugged, "If you say so" she sneered.

Hermione turned in annoyance towards Lilith, not bothering anymore to hid her streaked, tear riddled face. She was grown up, a teacher, a highly respected member of society, so why did this single girl manage to make her feel like a clumsy bushy haired teenager again. "And what, may I inquire, are you doing up?"

Lilith face twisted angrily, looking up from the book that she had rested against her knees lazily. Her sharp nose went up pompously, mouth curling in loathing "You may inquire all you wish, _Professor_" she added the last mockingly, as if she knew Hermione's thoughts. "but I would sooner under go a month of the Cruciatus Curse, that confine you…"

Mudblood

The unspoken word was heavy in the air around them. Lilith frowned, snapping her book open and looking away, the disquieted expression still residing on her face.

"That can be arranged" muttered Hermione darkly.

She knew Lilith wasn't Draco, but that was all she could see, all she could hear, Lilith was Draco malfoy to her. In fact she was certain Lilith was what Malfoy would have been, had he been female. She was too thin, her legs and arms like sticks beneath her clothes, she was small shoulder and finely boned. Something Hermione had never been.

The younger woman was extremely pale, skin so fair it was almost translucent, she looked like she would burn in the middle of winter. She was sharp featured, her nose too thin to be considered cute, her face too pointy to ever be soft, even her eyes were a little too grey and cold. Not beautiful, no one would ever call her that.

Stunning, maybe, in a utterly and uniquely Malfoy way.

The girl resumed her earlier position, book balanced on her knees. Her virgin-snow white hair fell in a fine curtain between them, cutting herself off from the older woman.

"I think, maybe you should return to your dormitory"

"With Jasmine doing impression of a roaring train and Astarte trying to drown me in the piles of pink fluffy clothing… No, but thanks"

"I'll telling you to go, Malfoy"

Lilith slammed her book shut loudly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Don't….Owww!"

Lilith flinched away from her, "What?"

Hermione was bent over nearly double, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She turned wet eyes up to the girl. "my baby just kicked"

Lilith stared at her, "I didn't know you were pregnant" she mused.

"Not that the big lump should give it away, or anything"

"I just thought you were fat" Lilith beamed nastily.

Hermione bristled, but breathed out her anger, she rarely showed her temper and she wasn't about to let a smart-arse of a 16 year old see her lose it. But she wasn't above lecturing.

"May I?" Lilith's blank face, turned defiant at her hesitation, "whatever.."

"No.. sure"

She had better be getting big Karma points for this, Hermione thought bitterly, those thought dimmed at the utterly radiant smile that spread over the girl's face, Malfoy had never done that.

In that second of understanding, she saw why Jamie put up with the bratty blonde.

Lilith looked blankly at her hands as if expecting them to do something, Hermione held back on the laugh that wanted to escape, at Lilith's sour expression and directed the girl's hands on to her belly.

"do you want children?" she asked gently, trying to escape the uncomfortable silence that covered them.

"What? And lose my figure?" she snorted incredulously, looking critically at Hermione.

Hermione wasn't sure if she meant it in a humour way or not.

"Don't think I'd be a very good mother anyway" she added flatly, "But thanks anyway, professor"

She got up a natural grace that would have made any teenage girl green with envy.

"good night" Hermione murmured, her thoughts already half in the spells she had been working on.

"Pardon?" a bemused smile appeared sneering on Lilith's face, as her head tilted patronizingly. "I'm not going to bed. Don't know what gave you that expression"

She stretched lazily giving Hermione a leering wink, before saturating off, leaving the woman glaring hotly at her back.

* * *

It was strange that love could hurt so much more than pain, hate. 

Voldermort yawned in amusement at the thought. He found himself amused a lot these days, maybe he actually was a little bit mad. Not that it mattered, not really.

He peered over at the cowering men.

Death Eaters, the older ones; grey haired and wrinkled, so stuck in there ways they had stopped acting and were just the drones they had pretended to be for so long. He didn't like that, strange. Voldermort had always liked the thought of every one obeying him, in fact it still sounded very appealing. But there was a little something off with it… something wasn't right about them, they were empty. What was the point in lording over people who were ok with it. He laughed out loud, smiling at the blank faces that watched him expectantly.

He rarely thought about his old followers, they were his anyway: body and soul, and consequently they were boring.

He yawned again, waving them away with a long thin white hand. They shifted and shuffled away, becoming shadows in a room of darkness. Anyway he had his kids now, he had to think about his children, his protégées, those handpicked few whom he almost loved. But not quite, he couldn't quite love anything. He was too tainted, to ever be able to love anything.

But they were his favourites, beautiful, pure bloodied children, sired by his hollow Death Eaters. He waited for them, thinking of the youth whom would joining them soon.

Narcisse.

Even his name tasted sweet on his tongue. He was different that one, not like the smart mouthed Draco. Draco, the first of whom he'd taken an interest in. Shame it hadn't worked, but that boy had been broken before he'd come to Voldermort. But his son, intelligent and stunning, he wondered if he had that ice blonde hair so favoured in the Malfoy line underneath all that black dye.

His kids filed in randomly, watching him, there eyes dancing with life. He almost loved them, yet again in that moment. He wanted his children to love him because he could never feel it, he didn't understand the concept through, it was just a word that he obsessed about, ever since that annoying little boy… Harry Potter.

"Sir?"

Oh, she was a card that one. He watched the elegant teenager as she tensely broke him out of his thoughts.

Impatient and frivolous and therefore imperfect, but she was bold. He laughed again, swinging down to spin her around, she was wide eyed as she went flying from her feet. She was frail and breakable in his inhumanly large arms, he couldn't help thinking about how easily it would be to snap those delicate bones, squeeze the air right out of those weak lungs. He was fascinated by death, abhorred the idea in every form but loved to watch as those flames of life dimmed. He held tightly for a moment, before setting her down. She sighed in relief, arms wrapping around herself. She was a china doll, dressed in velvet and pearls. She was beautiful, but imperfect, he would love to watch her die.

One day soon, he would.

But not yet. She had yet to play her part.

There were others of course, waiting. But his lovely collection of dolls was not yet complete he wanted a few more, and his most prized child would be James Potter. The son of Harry Potter.

He laughed again manically, smiling broadly at his favourite creations and his little bold girl with her pearls and vanity whom he would one day kill.

* * *

_There we go, chapter four.  
_

_Lyrics at the top consequence of me listen to songs while trying to think of a name for this chapter, and I just loved the song- not really anything to do with the fic, but I could see just Hermione crying over it...  
_

_plz review and nurture my ego_


	5. 5 Lost

Lost 

_Skin the sun  
Fall asleep  
Wish away  
The soul is cheap  
Lesson learned  
Wish me luck  
Soothe the burn  
Wake me up_

Jamie found himself glancing at the teachers table.

Hermione, Monday, Lupin.

He turned away swallowing the disappointment and resentment that had rose up into his mouth. Why did he even bother hoping anyway?

He slumped down, his spoon swirling in porridge, thick as tar and as inedible. Sighing he flicked some of the lumpy substance at Elijah Tierman. The willowy youth spluttered and howled in rage, now resembling something for a bad horror movie. Snickering in satisfaction, Jamie crouched down lower, aware of the other boy's burning gaze on him.

He never liked him anyway. Ever since he could remember, Elijah had tormented him. Somehow the boy had managed to get under his skin and yet never seemed fazed by anything Jamie retaliated with, even looking like the monster from the deep he managed to give him a final _superior-than-thou sneer _before disappearing. But the fact that he really did look awful managed to make up for his arrogance somewhat.

Jamie was still smiling as the Daily Prophet landed in front of him. His fingers hesitantly picked up the thin paper. The newspaper was just a list of names, it had been for quite some time. Every morning the whole wizarding world poured over the paper searching to see if they knew any among the masses. The newspaper had turned into a list of the dead. Some days Jamie recognised names, some days he didn't. He folded the paper, pushing it away from himself, sometimes it was better to pretend the war wasn't happening.

Tristan slid sombrely onto the bench opposite him.

"Potions" he mumbled unhappily, trying to break into consciousness. A morning person he was not. Jamie greeted him with a smile, the red headed youth tried to return it, but it ended up a grimace.

"Have you seen Lilith?"

As soon as he had said it, he wished he hadn't asked. While his oldest friend was usual quiet and rarely vocal about his emotions, he couldn't hide his obvious dislike of the pale girl whom Jamie had grown close to. It was a contempt that had been breed into him, Weasleys and Malfoys, just didn't mix, and Jamie knew he wasn't going to be the one to change it.

Anyway it wasn't as Lilith was the victim, she absolutely abhorred Tristan. Their was no chance they were ever going to be friends, or even have a civil conversation for that matter. They seemed to delight in arguing with each other, and Jamie always found himself in the middle of their verbal spars, unfortunately for Tristan, Lilith was better at it than him. She had to have the last comment, always having some smart-arsed, mean remark on the tip of her tongue.

Tristan's sapphire coloured eyes darkened, "No" he snapped, letting twin curtains of red hair fall around him. Hiding himself from Jamie, ending the conversation. Jamie shifted uncomfortably. Tristan was his best friend, had been since they were four. It was a companionship born out of a weekend at the burrow and an incident involving a dragon, a trumpet and highly flammable, exploding rockets.

Tristan had always been there and he felt more comfortable and at ease with him than he ever could with Lilith. Tristan treated him as a friend while Lilith treated him -most of the time with barely controlled acceptance. But he refused to give her up, she was refreshing. He couldn't let it go. Not even for Tristan.

"My head hurts"

Speak of the devil.

An unusually dishevelled Lilith appeared next to him, her hand snaking around to snag his just buttered toast.

Jamie raised an eyebrow as the bread disappeared, watching in bemusement as she bit into it wincing at ever bite.

"Morning sunshine" he beamed, snatching his breakfast back from her.

"Stop…." she moaned, her face falling in to her arms. "My poor, poor head" she whined, the sound muffled by the table.

"I told you not to drink so much last night" he told her, remember the party which had erupted in the common room around 9ish, after …well no one was exactly sure what it had been about.

"I didn't know Quinn had spiked the drinks!" she said indignantly, peering at him with narrowed eyes through a mass of wild, white-blonde hair.

"You bribed him into doing it"

Lilith turned away, waving a hand dismissively at him, "Oh shut up. I'm in pain and all you can do is complain" she groaned again, "I want to die"

Jamie snorted in amusement "Don't say that" he mocked happily, keeping his face serious somehow as she glared at him, "remember Lil' drink is never the answer"

The girl sat up, murder glittering dangerously in her eyes, "I dislike you, you're a cruel person, whom I will one day kill" she frowned "painfully"

Jamie laughed shortly, "Go back to sleep, princess" he said patronizingly, pushing her face gently back into her arms.

"Just you wait" she muttered darkly, the rest of the rant undistinguishable apart from the words _spleen _and _chainsaw_. She really was very imaginative.

Tristan ignored them, his lips having become one thin line. He pushed his vivid hair behind his ear slowly. "Are you coming to see Hagrid tonight?" he asked.

"No" interrupted Lilith, snapping upright sharply, her face curling unpleasantly, "We've got plans. He's not going out."

Tristan stared down at her with barely contained hate, "We always go to see Hagrid on Mondays" he said, turning to Jamie. The dark haired youth looked troubled as he watched them. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lilith beat him to it. Laughing nastily at Tristan.

"Stop sounding so old and married" she taunted.

"Jamie?" they turned to the boy, who seemed to wilt under the pressure their of their gazes.

"You can come with us" he said tensely, "Or maybe…"

"No" Tristan interrupted calmly, his face smoothing into blankness, he stood up slowly. "I'm going to go to Potions, don't want to be late"

The stiffness in his movement betrayed his feelings. Jamie watched him pained, "Tristan" he called, but the red headed boy ignored him. Angrily he threw himself back onto the bench, Lilith didn't even bother to hide her smug look.

"I really hate you sometimes, why do you have to be like that?" he demanded, the girl had known he wouldn't say anything put on the spot like that. She knew people's weaknesses and used them against them without guilt.

She shrugged indifferently, "I am what I am." she looked at him slyly, "and you are what you are."

He frowned, unsure of what she meant. "Tristan's my best friend…"

She interrupted savagely, "He's a prat! Stay with him and you'll end up gay, alone and housing 23 cats"

Jamie sighed, "Don't"

Her eyes hardened, "Fine! Go to Hagrid's!" She rose suddenly, "Go and be Potter and Wealsey-the next generation. Part of the _Queer and Here _Ditty"

She shoved him hard as she left, joined almost at once by Quinn Merrick, he towered above Lilith, a dark eyed shadow, she pushed him away violently, still seething in anger. With a final venom filled glance at Jamie he ran back towards her. This time she didn't send him away.

Jamie let his face fall into his hands, at this rate, he wasn't going to have any friends.

* * *

Potions. 

Jamie barely made it in time, his hands still grappling to stuff the daily Prophet into his bag as he ran along the corridor. Beauxbatons had been attacked by death eater. No one knew who was dead or alive, but it didn't look hopeful. They said it was just a pile of rubble now. He had heard Lupin and Hermione talking about refugees coming to Britain, it seemed that Voldermort's hold on France was nearly without question now.

He pushed into the classroom, hesitating in the doorway. His usual position near the back of the classroom had been taken by Jasmine and Astarte, weren't they Lilith's roommates? He wondered if she'd told them to sit there. He wouldn't put it past her, she herself was sat between Quinn and Elijah. Giving him a contemptuous look as he walked uncertainly into the room, before going back to the youths who waited for her attention. They were like dogs, he though nastily, waiting for any scrap of attention she would throw their way.. He flopped onto an empty desk near the front angrily, Tristan pointedly ignored him from across the room when he glanced at the red headed boy. Why couldn't they just get along?

"Ok, everyone who bothered to turn up, sit down!"

Imogen Monday voice bellowed from the corridor long before she slowly limped into classroom. The sixth years scrambled into the seats. The Potions mistress liked to think it was their eagerness for potions which gave them haste.

She preferred to think it was because they were scared of her.

Imogen Monday had been the potions mistress for over 10 years. Jamie didn't know exactly what had happened, but she'd been close to Harry a long time ago, intimately so. He vaguely remembered what she had been like before. All smiles and dry humour, she used to give him piggy-back rides. She was different now, her home had been destroyed by death eaters, it was gone now, just like her left leg. Harry had given her a job in Hogwarts, it had caused a big scandal for some reason. She had easily slipped into becoming a teacher, but her relationship with Harry hadn't worked out, they had just argued all the time. As far as he knew neither of them had had any relationship with anyone else since.

Flicking her wand at the windows lazily, blinds snapped down with a thundering crack to cover the light that streamed into the dungeons. She tucked the thin piece of wood back into the many folds of her dark robes, glaring at the students. They sat straighter in their seats under her hot gaze.

"Homework!" she ordered, leaning against her desk, her nose twitched as the door slammed shut, sending them into near darkness.

Jamie frowned in panic as he remembered, "I've forgot it, Professor" he said sheepishly, the look she gave him told him that she didn't believe him in the slightest. Not that he was being truthful, he'd been outside on the Quidditch pitch instead of doing work.

"Another day onto your detention" she told him, waving the class into silence.

A snort of disgust echoed through the dark room. Monday didn't even bother looking, she shuffled the papers on her desk almost violently into a neat pile, her back still turned as she spoke.

"If you have something to say Miss Malfoy, I suggest you say it, rather than making farmyard noises" She spun around, as fast as she could manage with her one natural leg. "Right, who can tell me what a Hoag potion is?"

Lilith felt her face blanch of colour suddenly, she kept her face down trying to concentrate on the small act of vandalism she was engraving into the wooden desk. Monday hobbled along the rows, snatching a picture out of Jasmine's hands not missing a beat in her endless rant about the properties of the new potion; which left every single face in the room blank. What was Hogwarts doing teaching the Hoag potion? She tucked a piece of silver hair behind her ear thoughtfully. She didn't care, it wasn't like any of them would ever use it. They were far to good for that.

Quinn poked her suddenly, she glared at him. He smiled openly at her stormy face.

"Tonight, Do you want to…"

She shook her head, cutting him off sharply, "Spend time with you? Not unless I have to"

He frowned, his dark eyes hurt. She sighed wearily, why were all these boys so sensitive?

"I can't I have things to do"

He shrugged indifferently, bending back over sheet of parchment.

"Aren't you writing anything?" Monday was at her shoulder, her mouth close to Lilith's ear.

Lilith scowled, the potions mistress didn't intimated her in the least. So what if she one leg and a voice that could shatter glass. She had seen worse.

"no need" she answered instead. "I already know it"

Monday stared at her for a moment, her expression not saying anything about what she thinking. "I bet you do" she muttered, stalking off down the rows of desks.

Lilith watched her, eyes narrowed in thought. She could read most people easily. Her father had taught her that.

See their weaknesses and use them.

She could tell what people wanted to hear, even if she usually ending up saying the exact opposite. But that was because she had a mean little voice in her head who laughed manically at people's expressions of hurt. But Professor Monday was a mystery to her. The woman gave her detention every other week but had let her in her office and just talked to her right at the beginning when no one else would go near her when she'd first found herself in Hogwarts.

Lilith frowned, it didn't matter anyway.

Jamie's green eyes were staring at her, searing into her soul. She ignored him, bending over the desk again, finishing the graffiti on the desk.

A flourished word. Engraved into the wood and coloured in brilliantly crimson ink.

Lost.

---------------------------------

_Sorry it took me so long. I've got a constant migrain and haven't been able to do anything for days._

_Right I'm going back to school on wednesday, so for anyone who is atucally reading this don't expect regular updates. I'm going back into year 10, i feel old._

_Ok, who can tell me who the lyrics at the top are from?_


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